such a pretty pretty face
by xoxomolls
Summary: "And you wonder when being pretty stopped being enough." Lydiacentric. Oneshot. Stydia. Scydia. Jydia. Allydia. Angst. Part three of the Inside Out series.


::

You're used to having the world at the palm of your hands.

You're Lydia Martin and that's just how it has always been.

You never expected that to change.

You never expected to want it to.

::

Beacon Hills has been your home for as long as you can remember and you're sure you've hated it for even longer.

Pretty girls don't want friendly neighbors and country boys and small towns.

Pretty girls want fame and fortune and lights and cameras.

Pretty girls want everything.

(and if they're lucky, they get it)

::

A boy named Jackson steals half your heart the summer before ninth grade and a girl named Allison takes the other half shortly after.

::

The day the new girl comes to town is the day you find your new best friend. You see her in the hallway and can't help but pity the wide-eyed stare she wears as she struggles to get through the crowded hallway.

And then you're grabbing her arm and giving her a calculating look and deciding that she's just what you need.

You take her shopping and teach her the dos and don'ts of your tiny town and her arm hooks through yours perfectly and you've never really had a best friend before.

Her name is Allison Argent and she's soft and sweet while you're sharp and sour and she's innocent and you're anything but and she loves you anyway.

::

Jackson is your first serious boyfriend and the first person you can honestly say you love.

(_He watches the brunette and you frown because she's pretty, but not as pretty as you, right?_

_You ask him as much and he snaps out of it, rolling his eyes and telling you that yes, you're prettier than her. You're prettier than everyone._

_You drop it, but sometimes your heart hurts when you watch him watch Allison._)

And maybe that's why you pretend your IQ is half what is actually is. And maybe that's why you don't care that he doesn't fall at your feet like the rest of the school. And maybe that's why it hurts so much when he leaves.

He breaks up with you over a text message and at first you think it's a joke because Jackson can be cruel, but even he wouldn't go this far, would he?

You find out later that apparently he would.

And then you wonder if you ever really knew him at all.

::

You're used to people saying you're beautiful. But you're not used to people saying you're smart.

Stiles Stilinski isn't even on your radar until Allison tells you he's taking you to the winter formal.

(you think it shows how much you love your best friend when you don't even try to argue)

He picks you up in a horribly tacky jeep and you roll your eyes at how crooked his tie is, but nothing seems to faze him. He asks you to dance and you just raise an eyebrow and then he's off on a tirade that you're only half listening to until he calls you a genius and you think that maybe you should stop pretending to be something you're not.

You dance with a beautiful boy you never really noticed at a formal you never wanted to go to with a smile on your lips and his hands on your waist and maybe this is what happy feels like.

::

But pretty girls aren't meant to be happy.

Because ten minutes later, there's a man with red eyes and fangs and you're falling falling falling.

You think you hear the beautiful boy, but everything goes black and you won't remember in the morning.

::

You wake up in a hospital and everything is too white and too still and too silent.

When a nurse walks in and hands you a glass of water, you think she looks familiar. It's not until she leans over to brush your hair back that you recognize the eyes. She must be Scott's mom. She smiles at you and tells you that it's going to be okay and you believe her.

The next few days pass in a blur of hospital gowns and blood tests and interrogations and you pretend it doesn't hurt that your parents stop by once and spend the whole time arguing over medical bills. And maybe it's a good thing that you're on pain medication and sedatives because you keep dreaming about a man with red eyes and fangs and it scares you more than it should because it's just nightmares, right?

::

Nightmares don't come to life and haunt you.

Nightmares don't break you apart and use the pieces of you to dig up the grave of your attacker.

Nightmares don't make you poison Scott with one of the only things that can kill him.

You're used to being shallow and vapid and sometimes mean. But you aren't used to losing control and sanity and everything. You aren't used to being a pawn in someone else's game. You aren't used to seeing things and people that aren't there. And you feel like the world is standing still and you just keep spinning, trying to make sense of everything. And it's not until you've got dirt under your fingernails and a monster standing behind you that you realize the man's eyes weren't always red and being pretty isn't going to save you from the big bad wolf.

And you scream.

::

Your best friend is following the orders of a psychopath and your ex-boyfriend has blood on his hands. Literally.

And no matter how many times you beg Allison to stop and think about what she's doing, that killing Derek won't bring her mom back, that it will only hurt more people, she just gives you that sad little smile and tells you not to follow her. And no matter how red your lipstick is or how curly your hair is, Jackson won't give you the time of day anymore. So you can only watch as the body count gets higher and higher, just like your designer heels.

You sigh and wonder when being pretty stopped being enough.

::

If there's one thing you know about Scott McCall, it's that he cares about his friends more than he could ever care about himself. Even you.

And maybe that's why you kiss him the day of his first lacrosse game. Because he's good. He is good and you are something entirely different and maybe you were hoping you could make him a little bit like you or he could make you a little bit like him.

It's not until you're watching your best friend's grandfather throw up mountain ash that you realize Scott doesn't just care about his friends. He's willing to do anything for them.

You're already analyzing everyone and everything around you, trying to find an explanation for the claws and scales and blood when there's a gasp and the sound of someone hitting the ground and you feel like someone just ripped your heart out of your chest and _oh god, Jackson_.

"I do. I do still love you."

And you're kneeling in front of him and he's still half-kanima, but he's also half-himself and that's enough for you. You wrap yourself around him and show him the key that you never took off and hope to god that it's enough for him.

And then he stops breathing and for a second, you do too because none of this is okay. And you breathe in and he doesn't and you know that this is the end of everything you thought you knew and part of you just wants to lie down next to him and for your lungs to stop working because you don't understand. But you don't need to because a few seconds later, he's standing up and you don't care that he has claws and fangs just like the man with the red eyes because his eyes are blue and it's going to be okay.

You hold onto him until you can't anymore, but even then, you don't let go.

::

It's kind of funny that you barely got him back and now he's moving halfway around the world.

You wonder if you ever really had him.

::

It's not until there's an alpha pack killing your friends off one by one that you realize this isn't a game.

And it's not until there's a body at your feet and blood on your hands that you realize this isn't the kind of thing you can just walk away from.

When you scream, bad things happen. When you scream, people die. But if you don't scream, you feel like you're going to explode.

And you never asked for this. Scott never asked for this. None of you asked for this. You're just kids and it isn't fair that the weight of the world is on your shoulders or that instead of worrying about biology finals and rumors, you're worrying about which of your friends you'll have to bury next.

But the beautiful boy holds your hand and believes in you when everyone else thinks you're crazy and you think that as long as he's there, it'll all be okay.

::

His name is Aiden and he's badbadbad and you know that it won't end well, but that doesn't stop you from sneaking kisses in the closet and it doesn't stop you from falling for him.

He's the bad boy with dark words and even darker actions.

You're the pretty girl with firecracker eyes and Hollywood curls.

Until you're not.

Because now you're the one finding the bodies and you're the one who can scream someone into oblivion and maybe you can do something about it if you try hard enough. Maybe if you scream loud enough, you can find more than just blood and destruction.

_I don't want to be with the bad guys anymore._

::

There's a rope around your neck and it's so tight that you can't breathe and you just know you're not going to make it out of this room alive and you want to scream, but you can't.

And _I'm so sorry I couldn't fix this. _

And everything is going black, but then the rope is gone and Scott's grabbing you and asking if you're okay, but you're not because this is all your fault.

Stiles stares at the window and the spot where his dad used to be standing and you frown because beautiful boys should never look so sad.

And you hook your arms around Scott's neck and let him carry you to his car and he doesn't complain that you get mascara stains on his shirt or that your nails are digging into his shoulders and it makes you love him a little more.

::

Banshees aren't real.

But they are. And you're one of them.

You cover your ears and curl up on the bathroom floor, trying not to scream because it's all too much and you don't want to find any more bodies.

Scott can't always be there to protect you and Allison can't always be there to hold your hand and Stiles can't always be there to tell you he believes in you.

And you're so used to being pretty that you don't remember how to be smart.

Until you have no other choice.

::

You're not the crazy one anymore. And you feel terrible for enjoying it so much, but you're not the one getting stared at and you're not the one doubting yourself every day and you're not the one dancing the line between truth and insanity and you like being able to trust your own thoughts.

But when you notice the circles under Allison's eyes and the way Stiles counts his fingers constantly and how Scott is always double-checking that his eyes are still brown, you think that you would take the madness away from them in a heartbeat because you're used to it already and you know how hard it is to distinguish what's real from what's in your head.

And maybe that's why you kiss the beautiful boy when he has a panic attack and you're the only one around. And maybe that's why you take his face in your hands and touch your forehead to his. And maybe you feel something and maybe you don't, but he holds his breath and it's beautiful.

::

And then nothing is beautiful anymore and everything is too dark and too wrong and you're holding Scott's hand and begging him to do something, to fix this, and you know you're asking too much, but you can't seem to stop.

You know you're being selfish because Stiles is his best friend and he has to watch him deteriorate and he has to watch him fall deeper and deeper into a curse that was never meant for him.

And you blink and it's all gone and you're locked in a cage with a monster, praying that they got your message.

_Don't find me. Don't find me. Don't find me._

::

You don't have to see it to know when your best friend takes her last breath.

Because you can already feel the scream building in your chest until it erupts and you know it's too late for you to do anything about it. And then you're letting go of Stiles and running towards Allison and not caring that you're getting blood on your hands.

Scott wraps his arms around you from behind and pulls you away, even as you're still screaming and begging and pleading and _not her, anyone but her._

You don't see Chris Argent lead Isaac away and you don't see Derek catch Stiles when he starts to fall. You just see your best friend and how she isn't breathing and how it's all your fault.

(Scott, you have to bring her back. You have to. She's my best friend. If you loved her, you'll bring her back. I know you can do it. Why aren't you doing anything?)

You don't stop to think of how much your words are hurting him or how you're probably breaking his already broken heart into a million little pieces because he didn't listen.

You warned them and they didn't listen. Why didn't they listen?

_Allison, why didn't you listen?_

::

You save Stiles and you think it's over and then you get that feeling that always come right before you're going to scream and you're running again and you can see the broken expression on Ethan's face from where you're standing and you just freeze.

You lost your best friend and now you're going to lose Aiden.

It just doesn't seem fair.

Cora was right. You really are just kids who keep finding the bodies.

And then Stiles is behind you and you're burying yourself in his chest and pretending this is all a bad dream and that when you wake up, Allison will be tossing pillows at you, yelling at you to wake up and she'll be normal and happy and alive.

But it's not and she won't.

You cry until you can't anymore and you don't care that you're ruining your makeup because you don't want to be pretty if it means you can't have Allison.

::

You're Lydia Martin and all you wanted was the world.

And you got it. Then it all burned down and you were left with broken nails and a broken heart.

You wanted the world, but all you really needed was the beautiful boy with his clever words and the innocent girl with her sweet smiles.

::

Pretty girls want fame and fortune and lights and cameras.

But you're not just a pretty girl.

And all you really want now is a way to turn back time.

::


End file.
